


jealous jobs

by fuckingkinney



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Ian, Jealous Mickey, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:32:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingkinney/pseuds/fuckingkinney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian could feel his head spinning and he wasn't entirely sure whether it was because of the alcohol he’d consumed or the way that his head cracked against the bricks of the alleyway as he slammed into them.</p>
<p>But Mickey was sinking to his knees and looking up at him the whole time that Ian couldn’t find it within himself to do anything other than curl his fingers into his hair and hold on for dear life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jealous jobs

Mickey doesn't really know why it is that he's there, can't remember the original answer for the life of him. It was something to do with Terry wanting to play Pool and Joey decided to drag him along too.. For some reason he still couldn't remember.

Not that he was actually playing anymore, had shoved his stick at someone blindly and sat behind them all once he saw it. Downed beer after beer and sat there, soaking up the anger and mixture of emotions that were building up inside of him at the sight across from him. 

He shouldn't have been jealous - no, to fuck was he jealous. 

Mickey Milkovich was never fucking jealous.

Except when watching Ian from across the Alibi, mixed in within the older Gallagher's and the ghetto chick that never seemed to leave them, drunk off his face and giggling loudly as he continued to talk to someone that Mickey had never seen before.

Watched the way that he lent in too close and smiled too fucking nicely, as if he had any right to be that close to the redhead without any care.

Because he was being careless - if Terry were to turn around, they'd both be fucking dead for being faggots in the open. For being faggots in general.

It was thoughts like that which made his stomach turn sickly, which made him realize he needed to stop this whole thing before it was too late.

But instead he continued to stare, emptying beers and getting Joey to go get more.

Watched as Ian laughed and lent back in, head tilting back and exposing the pale skin of his throat carelessly.

It wasn't until the redhead let his hand trace the other's arm that Mickey had enough, snapping the rest of his beer down and slamming it against the table he was sat on.

Ignored the eyes that stared at him as he pushed himself up off his seat with a mumble of 'need a smoke' which had them turning back to whatever the fuck it was they were doing. Mickey couldn't find it within himself to think about caring.

Instead stormed out of the Alibi doors loud enough to garner everyone's attention again. Not that it mattered once he felt the eyes staring at his back that he wanted before he slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

Hearing the door open as he stood down the alleyway besides it, Mickey decided to ignore it, lit up a cigarette instead and let his eyes close. He tilted his head back against the wall behind him as he inhaled the fumes harshly, kept them in his lungs.

"Mickey?" The word was slurred, an attempt of a pathetic whisper that should have made Mickey roll his eyes.

Instead he ignored it, exhaled into the dark air and refused to acknowledge him.

It shouldn't have surprised him that Ian bothered to follow him, alone. But it did and Mickey scowled at the thought as the redhead moved towards him carefully.

He was the one that Ian was meant to want, that he was meant to need. Not some fuck that waltzed into the Alibi like he owned it and Mickey knew that he shouldn't have cared - Ian fucked other guys, he didn't give a damn about it - but _seeing_ it? 

That was a whole new area that he hadn't bothered to think of and it made something inside of him twist painfully.

Made him want to pull the redhead into him and bare his teeth at anyone else that tried something like an animal.

Made him want to punch Ian in the face because this wasn't meant to be like this, wasn't meant to happen.

Yet it was and Ian was talking again, squinting at him through the fumes of his cigarette and closing in on him, smelling like liquor and a death sentence.

* * *

"Mickey?" He was meant to be whispering, but apparently, the alcohol he'd consumed was ruining his subtly. 

Ian gathered he was meant to care more but the thought was gone from his mind once he turned the corner, set sights on the grubby teenager he was looking for.

Only he wasn't looking at him, in any sense of the word. Seemed to lost in his thoughts and didn't even realize that his cigarette was burning out and leaving ash across his fingertips.

Times like this made Ian wish he could crawl into Mickey's mind and pick it apart, spread it around and gather all the pieces together and fit them in place so he'd finally be able to understand him.

"Mick, are you-- Are you okay? You looked.. Well, you looked pretty fucking pissed off and I thought I ought to.. You know, see if you're okay-- But you're not even listening to me, are you?"

Then Mickey looked at him and there was something different in his eyes and Ian was mildly aware that he should have been terrified.

It looked like he was about to be killed and yet Ian didn't move. Didn't know if it was because he was too drunk to or because he trusted Mickey too much for his own good.

Ian would go for the second as he was suddenly grabbed, cigarette dropped and forgotten as he was dragged down the alleyway. 

Ian could feel his head spinning and he wasn't entirely sure whether it was because of the alcohol he’d consumed or the way that his head cracked against the bricks of the alleyway as he slammed into them.

But Mickey was sinking to his knees and looking up at him the whole time that Ian couldn’t find it within himself to do anything other than curl his fingers into his hair and hold on for dear life. Because Mickey never done this and Ian couldn't understand what was happening.

Was still back to when he was whispering the Milkovich's name outside of the Alibi doors and it should have concerned him how much he wanted to catch up as he stared down at Mickey blankly as tugged his jeans open and down to his knees. 

As he forced his boxers to follow with a roll of his eyes that Ian could see even above him, until he mouth was around his cock so suddenly that Ian couldn't do anything but groan and choke on air at the same time.

Ignored the noise that Mickey made around him as he tightened his grip in his hair and forced his hips forward as he felt himself start to get hard too fast for him to deal with. 

It occurred to him that he probably shouldn't have fucked into his mouth straight away, considering that Mickey had done this.. Once before? Maybe. Ian couldn't think for himself if he tried to. But as he looked down at the sight of him on his knees, jaw slack and eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he focused on loosening his throat around him.

It was enough to make him groan, tip his hips forward more despite knowing that he needed to shut up if they didn't want to get caught. 

Ian didn't mind himself but a large part of him really doubted Mickey would enjoy being caught on his knees with a cock in his mouth. Even if he himself would enjoy nothing more than getting as much evidence of the moment as humanly possible.

Somewhere between his thoughts, Mickey had apparently decided he wasn't getting fucked into.. Or atleast, Ian assumed so as his hands were slapped away from dark hair and his hips were forced back against the cold wall.

Then it was like fucking bliss.

Ian didn't know what had caused it, didn't care as Mickey hallowed his cheeks in and sucked him down. Took charge in what he was doing and not letting Ian get himself off however he wanted to.

Ian didn't know whether to sob or not as it carried on that way, the Milkovich's head bobbing almost erratically on his cock with pure concentration on his face. It was like a god damn porno, only better.. Way fucking better.

It ended too soon, for Ian at least. He came with a noise that was pathetic even to himself and knew that Mickey would agree, held onto his hair and kept him in place for a minute too long just so he wouldn't have to hear it. Then Mickey forced himself away and back onto his feet. Glared at him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand..

And Ian realized it was wrong and disgusting that he was wanting to do the same to him just for that fucking move alone.

But before he could move to do anything, Mickey was on him. A hand on his throat, thumb pressed against the indent between his jaw and the side of his neck as he clashed their mouths together.

It wasn't nice; it was teeth, tongues and pain.. Ian was addicted before it'd started.

"You're not--" It made Ian blink to realize that Mickey was mumbling, to himself more than to him. But yet he still listened, unsure whether or not he was allowed. "You're fuckin'.."

Pressed his finger against the indent harder and glared at him as though it was his fault any of this was happening before forcing their mouths together again. His bottom lip was tugged out and all Ian could do was gasp as Mickey bit into it harshly.

"Mine."

Then he was gone, shoving him into the wall again and leaving Ian there with his jeans still around his knees and with no fucking clue as to what had just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback me?   
> i wrote this in two parts so idk if it really.. goes together but yeah, i hope so~  
> feedback me bitches  
> ox


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